The Prince's Blade: Dark Descending
by WhiteAngelAriah92
Summary: The Dragons fell from the skies for their arrogance... The Shade was born from the evil of the world... The Phoenix must be resurrected... Harry Potter must become Lord Gryffindor to confront the Dark Descending.
1. Prologue

**Wish I did, but I don't - I don't unfortunately own the Harry Potter franchise, but it'd be awesome if I did!**

**Please enjoy...  
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Prologue

_The Great Olde Dragons – roamed the waters, the lands, and the skies to the Heavens to the Core of this world: Mighty and powerful, proud and arrogant. In a violent Tournament, they fought amongst themselves to prove the greatest of them all._

_In their wake, they left ashen destruction: the waters stale, the land barren, the sky darkened. The Phoenix, from her Mount on the greatest aerie – that touched the Heaven's themselves – saw this rampant destruction of the beautiful Earth, and took flight. Her songs calmed the proud and furious hearts of the Dragons, but not all were eased and using her body as a sacrifice, she sealed away the Dragons._

_The Dragons fell to the earth in their seals, imprisoned in weaker forms. As her dying song passed over the world, the Phoenix told them this: I will not leave you completely defenceless. As my flames settle over the world and in the creatures left on this land, you will find each a flame for yourselves. These flames will be the key to your awakening. Find my flames, and find the thing that is most important: The thing most important to this world – and to your Hearts. _

_But as the Phoenix passed away with her promise in the hearts of the Dragons, not all the darkness had been swept away. For in the monstrosity that had been wreaked upon the earth, a much more ugly, darker force writhed and grew from pride and lust and greed. For it too, had a hunger for the flames of the Phoenix – the Light of the World. The Shade. _

_Now that lives upon this earth – the eternal war, the eternal search – to find the Flames: flames that will ignite the Dragons, pleasure the Shade…._

_Darkness is brewing. _

_The Dark Descending…_

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I'm notorious for starting a project, then leaving it to stagnate. I really hope that this one will actually be something I can keep up with - I have so many ideas for it, whirling around in my head, and my Muse is constantly hitting me with his metal guitar, demanding I write!

Oh the woes of an artist...

**So please Review! Review is like a sunshine of inspiritation to the freeze of my mind 3**


	2. Chapter 1: Awake

**No, I don't own Harry Potter: disclaimer, y'ok?**

**Please enjoy!**

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Harry stared distantly at the wall before him, his eyes unseeing. Harry Potter seemingly lived in an ordinary house, in an ordinary road, living an ordinary life. Of course, the lightning-shaped bolt on his scar told volumes that couldn't be further away from the truth. Despite what the normal family, the Dursleys, of number 4, Privet Drive would have everyone else in the near facility believe, their nephew – Harry Potter was anything but normal. Harry was a wizard, and a famous one at that – the Boy Who Lived.

The Boy-Who-Lived had faced dangers the moment he had stepped into the wizarding world; from facing the evil Dark Lord Voldemort not just once, when he was a mere babe in swaddling clothes whose mother's sacrifice allowed him to evade the killing curse uttered from the Dark Lord's lips, but four times over: during the Philosopher's Stone fiasco, again in his second year against one of his many horcruxes and Salazar Slytherin's basilisk, during the Triwizard Tournament when the Dark Lord resurrected…and again, that summer…

Harry's chest tightened and his eyes turned upwards; hoping the overwhelming, painful hollowness in his chest would abate. That summer he had hot-headedly – as usual – sprung into action believing his beloved godfather Sirius Black was in danger. He had met Sirius in his third year, believing the man was an escaped convict from the notorious Azkaban prison, and was out for his life. In reality, Sirius had been convicted under false charges – it hadn't been he who had betrayed Harry's parents and killed 12 muggles in an explosion in a street – but Peter Pettigrew: a former friend, now a traitor.

He had stopped Sirius and Remus Lupin, his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at the time, from killing Peter, and had instead suggested they turn him into the Ministry…instead; Remus had been unfortunate enough to have stepped out into the full moon and turned into a werewolf, thus allowing Pettigrew the chance to escape…

Harry scowled as he remembered this, feeling a burning hatred towards the man, a hatred that surpassed even his anger towards Voldemort, but the fire died as quickly as it came…for a while, he hadn't been able to muster the energy to feel, well, _anything_. It all seemed so pointless…all those memories felt as if there was a monstrous chasm between them; between his time in Hogwarts and the day Sirius was hit in the chest by a curse from the mad Bellatrix Lestrange, and fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries – to never reappear again…on that fateful night…

He had been stupid…stupid for not realising the importance of Occlumency, for not ignoring Voldemort's presence in his mind, for believing the trash planted in his head…

Screwing his eyes shut, Harry tried to clear his mind. He was currently curled into a foetal position on his bed, body as skinny as ever, with a new tint of paleness and sickly yellow that belied an undercurrent of lack of sleep and poor nourishment. It was not that the Dursley's weren't feeding him: the warning threat sent to them on the train station after his 5th year at Hogwarts had been strong enough that Harry was ensured at least 3 meals a day (if meagre portions) and the insurance that he sent a quick letter to the Order of the Phoenix after every 3 days ('Hi, I'm fine, Harry'); it was just he couldn't summon up the stomach to eat.

He didn't feel hungry, and only sometimes thirsty, and so would give much of his food to his pet snowy Owl, Hedwig. Ever since 2nd year, there were no bars on his windows, though he continually heard Vernon Dursley, his uncle, mutter about 'ruddy owls' and how the bars would be a 'damn good precaution', so Hedwig was allowed to hunt at night and spread her wings. For this, Harry felt a mild sense of accomplishment…_at least someone was happy_….

The Durlsey's had also refrained from heaping chores on him like a house elf: whilst at any other time Harry would be grateful for this, for once, he longed for the menial tasks – if nothing else, the monotonous movement and concentration of the chores would be able to focus his mind away from…his throat tightened…from _that_…and from the continued aching in his scar…

His scar was also another reason why he put off sleep for as much as possible: when he wasn't reliving the deaths of his parents, their screams, Cedric's lifeless body in the graveyard and Sirius…he was also unwillingly delving into Voldemort's mind, watching raid after raid…watching the mangled dead corpses and the screams as Voldemort laughed in that high-pitched cackle…

Harry hissed and stood. The alarm clock on the desk spoke 5.30am.

It had been a week since he had left the safety and security of Hogwarts: with a mind racing with the implications of the Prophecy – _be victim or murderer_ – another thing he lost sleep over, and that caused him continual anxiety: should he tell his friends? If ever? How should he say it? Would they reject him? Is there any way around it? _Why me? _He looked outside, towards the street. His guessed that Order members would probably be on patrol…possibly…Hedwig hooted softly, and he gave a weak, crooked smile.

"Just going out for a while…" he rasped, from a throat sore and dry. He slipped into too-large shirt and jeans, tightened around the waist with a belt that had extra holes poked through, and slipped on a jacket. The summer months had been unusually cold and misty: before, the summer had been dry and hot and Vernon grumbled about the hosepipe-ban and heat…now he grumbled about the lack of good weather and drizzly rain… Harry also slipped his wand into the jacket pocket, and neatly folded his invisibility cloak into another pocket. Ever since a disastrous attack from Dementors the previous summer, as well as everything else that had happened, Harry went nowhere without ample protection. _Constant vigilance_ he though wryly to himself, recalling a lesson two years prior, giving by a death eater polyjuiced as a retired auror.

With the silence and grace of a snake in the grass, Harry sneaked out of the house, eyes scanning the surroundings in case of threats. He then padded away silently, his feet taking him towards the park that was nearby. Since he had returned, he had taken to the park – especially at lonely hours – to just think, away from the stuffy, tense environment of Privet Drive. The swings were particularly enjoyable, where he could pretend he was flying, before that idiot of a woman Umbridge had banned him a lifetime from Quidditch.

The birds were beginning to awaken and he smiled slightly. In the chaos that had erupted at the end of his 5th year after the Ministry were forced to admit the return of Voldemort, it was nice to think that life crept as usual '_the birds still sing, and the world keeps turning…_' He thought about this for a while, since Sirius…passed on…he had been torn between wanting the company of others, and tiring of their presence when with them…his friends had been eager to send him letters; how they were doing, what they were doing, how was he, what was he doing…he felt torn between wanting to cry with joy that someone had remembered his existence beside the sycophantic Prophet, and becoming annoyed at them…he wasn't worth their time…a marked man…

The swing took him higher, so that he could gaze at the grey, blank sky before falling down again. Up, down, up, down…with a slight squeak to tell the swing's age…

So lost was the dark-haired boy in thought, that he didn't notice another's presence beside him until he finally slowed down.

Smiling slightly he breathed out and looked around.

And froze.

Right next to him, as calm as the world around them, was a boy.

Harry felt his mouth go dry: in the joy of the simple act of taking himself higher he hadn't noticed this…weird-looking boy next to him. The boy had startling bright white hair that fell past his ears in almost straight waves. His skin was an almost alabaster white, with a straight nose, high, aristocratic cheekbones and perfectly formed lips – but most striking of all were his eyes….

…That were looking directly at him. Cat-like, dazzling forest green eyes gazed at him, carrying an ethereal quality that seemed to be out of place in the normal, quiet suburbia around them. The boy was lazily leaning against the hangings of the swing, looking graceful whilst relaxed. The clothes around him seemed to be made of some light, reflective material, like silk, and were strikingly similar to a wizard's robes.

It was obvious he had been there quite some time, just amiably watching Harry like a strange, rare specimen. He was smiling lazily.

Harry wondered what he should do: who was this boy? He would've surely noticed him before…no one walked around with that bright white hair and cat-like eyes and wasn't noticed? Why were his eyes cat-like? And his robes look like a wizard's – wait, is he a wizard? His mind struggled to hold onto one question long enough, and he felt a slight tempo in his heart raise. This could be a death eater and I didn't notice…

Idiot! How could I-?

"I'm not going to bite you."

Harry froze again and continued to stare. The boy was still smiling in a perfectly amiable way, though now there was a hint of amusement.

"Err…" He noticed how sore his throat was, and berated himself for being so weak. _You're the bloody boy-who-wouldn't-die, and you're being shy now of all times!_

"Are you Harry Potter?"

This rang the alarm bells in his head immediately and with one swift movement he had stood from the swing, eyeing the boy warily. How did this boy know…? Unless he had been informed by Vernon, but those clothes…no, from the wizarding world. Harry felt too deadened for company, and certainly didn't want a conversation with someone from _there_.

The boy smiled, as if Harry's startled reaction were confirmation.

"I've been searching for you for quite a while…"

He leaned forward, his movements graceful and sibilant, eyes intently focused on Harry's. Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously and dug his hand into his pocket, feeling the reassuring presence of his wand.

"What do you want?" Harry tried for a strong, dominant voice, but all he got was a strained yelp.

The boy, for his part, looked startled at the frosty reception. He had expected fear, but not this resigned aggression. His eyes flickered.

"You."

Harry's breath hitched and his body fell to instinct, feeling the adrenaline pound in his ears.

"Are you the Order, Death Eater or Interviewer, 'cos if you're a Death Eater I won't hesitate to blow you out of the sky…" He ground out, feeling an overwhelming urge to get away. All he wanted now was to sink into the safe confines of his bedroom on Privet Drive; he didn't want to be talking to this complete stranger…

The boy blinked in bewilderment. What was the Order? And Death eaters? And why would he be an Interviewer?

"None of those…" He replied, eyeing Harry curiously.

Harry let out a strained sigh. Of course, if the boy were a Death Eater, he wouldn't go around advertising it, he- _Think Harry_. Harry calmed his racing thoughts and focused on the voice of his conscience. If the boy were a Death Eater, and had been watching him, then he would've done something already, surely?

"I am no one you need be afraid of." The boy whispered, appraising Harry with a calculating stare, before his gaze flickered behind him.

A red jet of light was sent bolting towards the boy on the swing. Within a blink of an eye, the light impacted and the boy had mysteriously disappeared.

Harry stood stock still for a moment before a familiar voice called to him.

"Wotcher, Harry! Are you all right? Not hurt anywhere?" Nymphadora Tonks, sporting lurid spiky green hair came into view and, removing her disillusionment, rushed over (nearly tripping over the end of the slide on the way there). Her wand was raised, and her eyes darted left and right, belying her chipper tone. Harry stared at the now burnt swing for a few moments before shaking his head - the strained, tense atmosphere had been blown away once Tonk's came into view and the boy disappeared, and now he felt the weighty depression fall back on him like a suffocating cloak, bringing back his moody reticence.

"I'm fine, thanks…" he muttered.

Tonks frowned, observing Harry's conflicted face and uneasy tenseness; "You sure?"

Harry nodded mutely, wishing that he could escape Tonk's scrutiny and escape to the confines of his room, and brood over the mysterious boy. He knew he was being ungrateful, but the boy had unnerved him and he couldn't shake the feeling that the boy had more to him than met the eye…

"Right…" Tonk's knew Harry was lying. He looked haggard and tired, and she couldn't blame him either, because she also felt that way after Sirius's death and the disturbing rise in raids since the Dark Lord's return – the stress on the auror's was mounting, and the Order was in a frenzy. She pursed her lips and did another quick search of the area before patting the skinny boy on the shoulder. Harry jumped uneasily and shook his head to clear it.

"Let's get you back to Privet Drive and discuss it there…" she murmured, sending him a bright smile and escorting him back to the Dursley's.

This summer was already shaping up to be an odd and stressful one.

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_**Please review!** I'd like to know what you all think so far! Who is this mysterious boy? Will Harry always be this damn moody? What are the consequences now that Tonk's is involved? How is everyione faring?_

_I can't wait to answer them, but y'all must review! **YOU GET A FREE COOKIE.**_


	3. Chapter 2: Shadows Stirring

The walk to Privet Drive seemed eternal to Harry. Despite usually being quite cheerful, Tonks had been quiet and pensive; she hadn't even tripped on her way there. That was surely a cause for alarm.

On the drive Harry paused.

"What's up?" Tonks asked, confused at the sudden stop.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. After the threatening warning at the train station, the Dursley's would be even less pleased to see 'one of them' in their house – and with spiky lurid green hair no less. He guessed it was 6 or 7 in the morning, so there were few about and Vernon would only be just waking up, but he didn't want to risk it. The last thing he needed was to have even more friction between them.

Wondering how he could word it, he began "I can let myself in…"

Tonks frowned.

"We need to talk about that boy back there…"

"It was nothing." Harry said quickly, hoping to deflect further questioning. Tonks was not to be deterred.

"Harry, it's important-"

"Look, I was on the swing, then somehow he was there and I didn't notice. Nothing else-"

"He said some stuff though, didn't he?" Tonks look was piercing. Harry was sorely hoping that he could be dealing with the cheerful and silly Tonks at the moment, not this scrutinising metamorphmagus who seemed to be coming into their role as an auror.

"He seemed to know who I am, confirmed I was Harry Potter – I asked him what he wanted, and he said he wanted 'me'…"

Tonks raised a green eyebrow and smothered a slowly growing smirk.

"I'm sure a lot of wizards would say that…"

Harry stared at her blankly, misinterpreting the amused glint in her eyes.

"Err…"

Tonks sighed. It had sailed right over his head.

"And then I came in. A warning shot seemed to do the trick."

Harry nodded. Tonks schooled her features once again.

"Did he seem threatening in any way?"

Harry thought about this for a moment. Had he? He had heard alarms bell go off when the boy had confirmed his name – but then, everyone in the wizarding world knew his name. The boy seemed to have gone out of his way to assure his friendliness, and he hadn't _appeared_ aggressive. Then again, he seemed to have a long track record of naivety and misplaced trust….

After a while he frowned.

"I don't know…he seemed, strange…but not threatening like a Death Eater…" he hesitated and looked at Tonks warily.

Tonks frowned for a bit before nodding, and sent him a reassuring smile.

"Well, I'll let it go – I'll have to report it to Dumbledore though…"

Harry couldn't keep the groan in. Of course, Dumbledore had to know everything – a column of frustration and bitter betrayal welled up in his gut and he thought to keep it down. Dumbledore, whom he had trusted so blindly, had kept information that could've turned his whole life around – he could have explained the need for Occlumency, his whole life's purpose against Voldemort…

Tonks startled at the dark look that took hold of Harry and frowned. What she had heard from some of the Order members was that Harry had left Dumbeldore's office trashed after the Battle in the Ministry. Even now, Dumbledore was unable to fix some of the broken objects, though this didn't seem to particularly bother the old wizard; who had seemed sad when he had commented that a lot more had been broken then some pieces of metal on his desk…

She looked closely at the teen before her, and wondered if Dumbledore had been referring to Harry. What had gone on between them?

Suddenly Harry looked up.

"It won't mean I can't go to the park, will it?"

Tonks jumped.

"I don't know Harry. You said he didn't seem threatening, but, well – with the current climate, it's not like we can be sure…" She gave a sidelong glance at Harry's forlorn expression.

"If it's any consolation, I don't think the Headmaster would be _that _cruel. But we are trying our best to protect you-"

"Haven't I heard that one before…" Harry muttered bitterly.

Tonks frowned.

"Harry, everyone's working really hard-"

"I understand." Harry forced out, stopping her mid-sentence. He shook his head, distantly he realised how rude he had been – Tonks had only been trying to help and yet he took his frustration and misery out on her. He couldn't dredge up the necessary emotion to feel truly angry at his own actions however and he continued to the door.

"Thanks for what you did back there, but…"

Tonks sighed.

"Harry, just understand that there's a lot going on at the moment – the Order are working really hard, and we need to know your safe." She stopped before Harry confirmed he had been listening with a nod. "I don't know why Voldemort has it out for you, but we'll do our best to look out for you."

Some of the frost seemed to have melted off Harry, for he smiled weakly, but more sincerely and turned to look at her with a pained expression.

"I'm sorry, I know you're all trying to help…with everything that's happened…" The words to truly explain himself seemed to have fled him, for his voice died in his throat and he waved his arms helplessly.

An awkward silence fell between them, before Tonks started to speak again, tentatively.

"Y'know, he was my uncle…"

Harry looked at her startled, before he realised what she meant.

Sirius…

He looked down feeling pain bubble up in his chest. Not now, he didn't want to talk about it. Seeming to sense his thoughts Tonks hurried on.

"We weren't particularly close, but we talked sometimes, and what happened has affected me too – we don't know each other all that well, but if you need anyone to talk to, that you can share some memories with and have a laugh about – well…"

She gave him a gentle smile. Harry smiled back weakly.

"Just know, that you got a lot of people who care about you, and are willing to listen."

Harry realised with her words that maybe it wasn't only himself who had lost someone dear that night: his thoughts wandered to Remus Lupin, and he felt even worse…surely he must be hurting as well…

"Thanks Tonks, it means a lot to me…"

She perked up and gave him a more cheerful smile. Deciding to let the matter drop for now she turned to leave.

"If that's settled, then I'll see ya' 'round. I think Shacklebolt is next on duty…"

Harry nodded. With a wave she made her way from Privet Drive, tripped over a cat that had suddenly darted out into the pavement and nearly walked into a lamppost as a result; stifling his laughter, he watched her continue on until she moved out of side.

Turning towards the door of number 4, he could heard a faint rumble that announced the Dursley's had awakened; steeling himself for another dull day he made his way inside and back into the daily ordinariness that was Privet Drive.

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The stagnant, bitter air around Privet Drive was a far cry from the flurry and activity in no. 12, Grimmauld Place.

Grimmauld Place had once been owned by the Noble Pureblood family of the Blacks, stationed in a quiet street in London and under a myriad of charms to conceal it from Muggle view – the residents of that street long-since used to the oddity of there being no number 12 between numbers 11 and 13. However, the Black family were far from 'noble': the family were notorious for their views on pureblood superiority and in Voldemort's first rise to power had been his ardent followers. Needless to say, most had ended up either dead or incarcerated in Azkaban.

The House now served as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix (leased to by Sirius Black), an underground resistance group lead by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to combat the forces of Darkness.

Within weeks of the Ministry debacle, Voldemort had been forced to the spotlight, and now Death Eater attacks on muggle locations had been happening left-right-and-centre. The Order and the Auror Corps of the Ministry were in frenzy. To add to the ever-growing worries, Dementors had been sighted all around Britain sucking out the souls of innocents.

As it stood, Grimmauld Place that morning had seen many Order members enter and leave the place within minutes; dropping off information to Order members stationed there; of Death Eater and Dementor sightings, the latest Daily Prophet, snippets of suspected Death eater activities, and the latest reports. Among other concerns was the fact that the lease with which Sirius Black had given them to use the House was running out until his will reading: though this was furthest from their minds for now.

Among all this activity, Tonks arrived, tripping over the troll's leg umbrella stand and awakening the ire of the resident portrait, Mrs. Black.

"FILTH! SCUM! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, FREAKS, BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE! HOW DARE YOU-"

Hastily, Tonks stood, and with stupendous effort alongside resident Remus Lupin, who had hastily exited the kitchen, managed to close the curtains over the crazed and vile portrait of Sirius Black's mother.

For a while there was an exhausted, echoing silence, before Tonks looked apologetically towards Remus.

"I'm sorry! It was that stupid umbrella stand, it's positioned in the worst-"

"Ssh! Before she wakes up!" He hushed her then motioned for her to follow him to the kitchen. Once inside he closed the door and relaxed his shoulders.

"Ridiculous portrait…" he muttered, returning to a normal level of sound.

"I know!" Tonks cried, rolling her eyes. "It's not my fault, honestly, why hasn't anyone moved that stupid stand? It's not doing anything for the décor anyway…"

Remus smiled at her tiredly and went to the counter by the dining area of the kitchen, picking up a mug of coffee with a content sigh. He looked older than ever, with extra stress lines adorning a pale face, and salt-and-pepper hair falling haphazardly over bright amber eyes. He poured some out and offered the mug to Tonks, who took it gratefully, cradling it in her hands and allowing it to warm her up.

"So, how was it?" He raised his brow. He could only mean Privet Drive.

"As usual – he visits the park a lot…" She frowned. "We had a visitor today, though."

Remus suddenly stood alert and frowned, lowering his mug.

"A visitor?"

Tonks rolled her eyes, observing the way Remus jumped to attention at the slightest hint of danger.

"Don't worry, your little cub is safe." She snickered at his affronted expression.

"Hush, you" he bit back, though his tone was more amused than angry.

"Yeah, a visitor. Odd-looking boy: white hair, bright green eyes and really pale. Apparently Harry had been using one of the swings in the park and only noticed him when he stopped…"

Remus motioned for her to continue.

"When Harry asked what the kid wanted, he said that he 'wanted' Harry and seemed keen to assure him he wasn't a threat. I shot a warning stunner off at the kid, but he vanished before it hit."

Remus frowned: A young boy who had 'wanted' Harry. There were many people who 'wanted' Harry: Voldemort and his goons 'wanted' to kill him, the Daily Prophet 'wanted' to badger him, the Ministry of Magic 'wanted' to use him as an allied mascot.

"Where you able to sniff out any links?"

Tonks smirked, "I'm sure you're better at the sniffer role."

"Aren't you witty, Nymphadora," she scowled at the given name and rolled her eyes - he merely smiled.

"Not really, I asked Harry about it, but he said he didn't feel threatened by him, just thought he was weird…I'm not sure if he's one of Voldemort's lackeys, if Harry hadn't noticed him, wouldn't that have been a prime opportunity for a Death Eater?"

Remus hummed in agreement, deep in thought. Something seemed odd about the situation.

"Maybe just a random wizard?" He offered. Tonks frowned for a bit then shook her head.

"Dunno, but my gut tells me he wasn't any normal wizard-" Here she looked around and peered at Remus closely, "in fact, something about him seemed…well, not-human." Remus's brow knotted and fell into contemplation. He himself was part human, the other being a werewolf (as he humorously called it 'his little furry problem'), but there were few 'not-humans' around that 'looked' like humans; it could either have been a vampire or veela of some breed, or some creature that had the ability to take on human form. However, aurors were trained to know a veela and vampire en sight, and Tonks hadn't mentioned it, and even if it were a vampire or veela, they were so secretive and so rare they would only contact a known wizard for a reason…

"Did you tell Shacklebolt there might be company?" Tonks nodded.

"I'm going to be writing a report to send off to the Headmaster soon, see if he has any ideas."

"Sounds like a plan," Remus agreed, and absently flung out an arm for Tonks to grab hold of as she tripped over a chair and nearly spilt her coffee.

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"Warren."

A squirrelly, small man blinked owlishly and looked up from the many scraps of parchment and paper littered before him on the mahogany desk.

"Yes, Paladin?" His voice trembled, and held the same qualities as a scribe who spent himself in the company of books more than breathing creatures – tremulous and well versed.

"Have you acquired more background intelligence on him?"

He didn't need to ask whom: the boy's name blared out at him from the numerous paper clippings in front of him.

"From what I was able to gain…" he frowned at the scraps, as if they were deliberately withholding important information from him and sticking their tongues out whilst at it.

"It seems he is the target of a one…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who…" he puzzled over this one – he wasn't quite sure who he was supposed to know, but continued, "a – what seems to be – self-proclaimed Dark Lord: I haven't been able to identify an official Dark Order Seal-"

"The boy" the sibilant voice interrupted impatiently.

Warren glared at the man.

"The boy, Harry Potter, appears to be the son of the late James Ignatius Potter and a muggleborn, Lily Evans…I have been tracing their heritages, the Potter is descended from a Peverell…of which a descendant of a Gryffindor family line. From what I have gathered, he seems to be one of, or is the Last Heir to the line…"

There was a hum of acknowledgment.

"And the Slytherins?"

Warren looked putout.

"If you hadn't silenced me before…" he muttered. "This Dark Lord Voldemort claims to be an Heir of Slytherin…"

"Most who have attended that school Hogwarts and who were 'sorted' to Slytherin claim so, though."

"Ah, many claim to be his liegemen, but not the Heir."

"I see…"

"His heir ship appears to be a large source of recruitment to his order, the Death Eaters," Warren added.

The man nodded, and turned cold, grey eyes towards him.

"Both lines are weak, and none of the Paladins have resonated yet."

"Easy pickings Paladin, then," Warren continued, caring neither way.

"I'll see which magical aura I can pick up first, and eliminate them."

The Paladin left, leaving Warren behind in the small office with a desk full of paper clippings and parchment. He sighed. Clan politics had never interested him thus, but it seemed the Julii were keen to start a war…

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Voldemort smiled cruelly, watching the proceedings with half-lidded eyes; before him were splayed a number of maps, with magical dots raised over specific locations, red for ones that had been raided, green for ones that were to be the next targets. So far, a series of surgical, rapid-fire strikes had occurred around the areas of Manchester and Leeds within minutes of each other a few days ago – long enough for aurors to be alerted and to arrive to the designated areas, but not long enough for his men to fall into combat.

The sluggish fools in the Ministry had been slow to react: the media had taken to stabbing daggers and criticisms into the current administration, and Minister Fudge's credibility was quickly eroding away, with many calls outside and in for his resignation and replacement with a better suited candidate. The Dark Lord had taken a great deal of interest in this and noted a growing, if covert support towards his cause: it would not be too difficult for his operates to nudge political momentum towards his favour…currently Amos Diggory and an old seasoned auror, among others, were showing interest in the role of Minister.

_Diggory would be a preferred option; he is still smarting from the loss of his son, driven to extremes by grief and vengeance…yes, men like those are easy to play…_

With the Ministry weakened and under fire, and aurors rag bare and diminutive in numbers, it would not be difficult for him to begin another reign of terror. The Dark Marks shone strongly in people's minds and assured a certain level of sustained panic.

He would move Death Eater activities to the suburbs of London and the Midland areas: the intent was to stretch Auror forces and confuse, before he launched an attack on Azkaban, where many of his top Death eaters had been captured.

_Top Death eaters? Adults and experienced, and they fell to a group of school children! Even Bella couldn't hold off Potter! Pathetic!_

He fought down the rushing fury and barely kept his temper in check. He was not know for his patience when it came to failure, or any scrap of calmness (with any calmness coming just before a very severe bout of punishment), but since the disastrous Ministry debacle, he could barely control his emotions; swinging between frustration and irritation to complete rage, and then to uneasiness. A sudden aching pain erupting in his head did nothing to sooth his temper.

Another side effect since possessing that boy…

He focused his mind on the maps: he had felt pain far worse than a mere headache, he would just have to ride out the irritation, and anticipate the next Death eater raid. He would be joining the raid around the London suburbs – London had a much higher concentration of Aurors considering the capital was also home to the Auror HQ, his presence would need to be felt. Once their attention was diverted well enough, he would launch his attack on Azkaban, free his moronic Death Eaters and finalise his alliance with the Dementors.

_Everything is going according to plan._


End file.
